


The Captain's Hat

by Iocane



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: I'm honestly not sure if it's the hat or the captain., M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 00:31:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iocane/pseuds/Iocane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So auzzie's said "If I were to ship Douglas with anyone but Martin, it would have to be Martin's hat."  And then I did this.</p><p>Edit: Chapters 1 and 2 are a short and longer version of the same story - I didn't feel the revision was worth a whole new story, and I like the original too much to delete it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No beta, no britpicking, no nothing, 'cept loads of crack.

Douglas took a rare opportunity and returned to GERTI after the others had left. Earlier, he'd ushered Martin out of the cabin in a hurry, reminding him of a job he had with is van, and that he was late. Douglas had even promised to do the log books. That had gotten him a stunned look, and a very distracted Martin on his way off to his job. Leaving his much lauded cap behind.

Now that Caroyn had closed the portacabin, and Arthur was done with the hoovering, it was safe to return. Stepping into the flight deck, he took Martin's hat from the cubby where it often rested during flight and settled into his usual seat.

He teased about the braiding, but in truth he loved the silken feel of the material under his fingers. And Martin was utterly meticulous about it, so the hat was in wonderful condition. He brushed his thumb along the brim, touching it where Martin always did when he put it on. He was never entirely sure if he was trying to replace Martin's lingering touch with his own, or if he was secretly touching Martin, second hand.

Leaning back, he lifted the hat to his face, tipping his head back and draping the hat over before inhaling deeply. Martin wore it often enough that it smelled of him. Martin used cheap hair products, so any scent they carried wore off quickly. That meant that most of what the hat absorbed was sheer Martin. The soft lining brushed against his nose and he could feel the frame press lightly against his face. Lifting it off again, he held it facing him, his hand caressing the top, as if stroking the hair of a lover.

Finally he decided it was enough, and stood to replace the hat, sliding it reverently back into its cubby and making his way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is an extended, rewritten version of this chapter, it is NOT a continuation or a sequel. Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I wrote the previous chapter, then posted it. 
> 
> THEN I sat around and thought about it, and decided I could make it longer.
> 
> This is what happened. I'm not as pleased with it as I wanted to be, and I've got so many other things to do, I'm not inclined to force it to work. So I'm putting it here. It's the same general idea, just ... more. So feel free to ignore this chapter.

Douglas' body felt tight in a way it hadn't since his last honeymoon. Carolyn and Arthur had finally left, and Martin himself was long gone.

It was his Captain's rushed absense that accounted for Douglas's continued presense.

Discovering that Martin had a van job lined up for right after they were scheduled to land, Douglas had taken pains to get Martin a touch frazzled as they went through post flight cheks. He finally ushered Martin off in rather a hurry, playing the assistent by fetching his flight bag, helping him into his jacket and patting his shoulder as he guided him out of the flight deck.

He'd deliberately not mentioned the Captain's hat still sitting on its little perch. When Martin looked like he realized he had forgotten something, Douglas clapped a hand on his back and ensured Martin that the logbooks would be done by the time Martin got on the following morning.

That was enough to get the Owner/Operator of Icarus Removals on his way and out of Douglas'.

His excuse to Carolyn, when she stopped short in the portacabin and raised an eyebrow at his presense, was that the recalcitrent luck of their esteemed captain had finally seen fit to show its lovely face. At her scowl, he'd simplified – Martin had won a bed and so Douglas was doing the log books.

Arthur needed no explaination, he was hoovering, and then his mother had taken him away, leaving Douglas blissfully alone.

In an act of delicious anticipation, Douglas made sure the log books were finished correctly, then tucked them away before giving the porta cabin a little tidy up and finally locking it up.

He climbed slowly into GERTI, making his way passed the sixteen seats, his pulse was decidedly racing when he reached the flight deck and drew the door closed behind him. Thankfully it was still mid-afternoon, and no one would notice if GERTI's flight deck were occupied, and if the little plane was turned on enough to ensure Douglas didn't bake.

Reaching for Martin's hat, Douglas's fingers brushed the edge of the peak, coaxing it out of its cubby, then splaying his fingers to rest the the band on it, carrying it like a waitor's tray as he turned and settled into his own seat.

The hat was quite the sight, for all that he teased Martin about it. The gold braiding was a bit more elaborate than his own silver, but it was really the thickly embroidered oak leaves on the peak that made it look a bit overdone.

Still holding the hat up on his splayed hand, Douglas' fingers brushed against the four silken gold braids. Martin was meticulous about maintaining his precious hat, so there was no sign of fray at all, no dust embedded between the delicate fibers. Just the silky feel of braids against the back of his knuckles as he caressed them, and the oak leaf embroidery.

Sliding his finger along the brim of the hat, he felt the slick, patent leather underside of the peak. When he'd been a captain, and now as First Officer, he'd never bothered maintaining the underside of the peak. Oh, for the firs year or so, that blush of pride had him polishing every last bit of it, but his natural discinclination for work had put a stop to that.

Stroking the wet-smooth leather, Douglas could easily imagine Martin polishing it on a regular basis. The polish itself would be good. Not the best, not what Douglas could afford, but probably a higher price bracket than Martin would pay for anything else.

It was easy enough to imagine Martin's slender fingers first cleaning off the old polish before reapplying, making a ritual out of it.

His fingers slid up along the edge of the peak, like a lover's hands teasing at the hem of a shirt. The leather band was the only part that showed any wear at all. Once stiff and utterly unyelidng, the leather had adjusted, over time, to Martin's head, forming itself to accomidate the angle he usually wore it and the size of his head.

Douglas' knew he was torturing himself, fondling the hat like this. But he so seldom got the chance. Martin was so protective, so posessive of his hat, the only changes Douglas had to touch it were when his Captain was there. That limited his interactions with it to teasingly snatching it off his head, or verbal jabs at it. Both of which he kept to a minimum, lest he show his hand a bit much.

The tight feeling in his stomach – and lower – wasn't enough to make him stop, however.

Still supporting the hat in one hand, he took hold of the peak, his fingers mirroring the spot he knew Maritn always touched when he donned it. Holding it now by the peak, his other hand rested against the back, where Martin would hold it to make it a snug fit. Douglas wasn't entirely sure if he mirrored the touch so exactly in order to erase it, overwrite it with his own, or in a futile effort to touch Martin, however second hand that touch might be.

Leaning his head back, Douglas very carefully settled the hat against his face. The band brushed against his cheeks, chin and forehead. Closing his eyes, he took a slow, deep breath and drew in all the scents held secret inside the cap.

Martin's soap and shapoo were cheap, the scents wore off quickly. That meant the hat smelled of pure Martin with a hint of leather polish.

Several gasping breaths and Douglas was shuddering at the feelings racing through his body. Strong fingers dug into his thighs as he let himself drown for a moment in everything, the weight of the hat, the scent of Martin, the polish, everything settling around his awareness.

The hat, Martin, they blended into one entity. Leather, and delicate fingers, shaped cotton and cupid's bow lips, shimmering gold braiding and copper colored hair. Douglas let out a quiet moan and shuddered rather violently as the unexpected wave of arousal crashed over him.

Realizing he was frustratingly hard, Douglas straightened suddenly and let the hat fall into his lap. Forcing his breath to slow, Douglas stood and scooped up the hat.

In his own hurry to flee the suddenly far too small fight deck, he didn't realize he was putting the hat back in the cubby the wrong way 'round.


End file.
